Disclaimer's: Same as before

Author's note: Donna had a good day and Josh makes a huge discovery. Mature events, be warned.

It's nearly midnight when I get back to the hotel. My feet are sore, legs are tight and my lower back is killing me.

I enter my hotel room, it dark and cold, just like every hotel room I've been in for the last few months. I look in the closet and feel in urge to smile. Maybe this room is a little different.

I fling off my shoes when I start to hear the repeating clicking of a key card not being used the right way. He finally figures it out and opens the door. Suddenly the room isn't cold. It feels familiar and hard to place. I am sure I'll figure it out. My hand goes to his chest as his lips warm mine. I like the kissing.

"Mmm. You look good." His fingers through my hair, he starts to kiss my neck. "How long since we did this last?"

"I don't know, like seven hours?"

"Too long, you're going to have to come up with schedule."

"I am?"

"Yeah. You're good at them."

I pull away from his embrace much to our disappointment. "I am going to get ready for bed." I turn around "Will you unzip me?"

"Sure." He is nearly gitty with excitement. His knuckles run down my back as he unzips my dress. I thank him and walk into the bathroom, the heat of his fingers still on my back and mind.

"How was your night?" I call from the bathroom.

"You were right this morning; I did have a bad day. Five hours of computer geeks talking about coding and other crap. Did you know that computer language is really only two numbers, 1 and 0?"

"Yeah."

"And yet they have been able to create many different languages to only two numbers."

"I think there is more too it then that."

"There is so much about this world I don't understand. I am beginning to think people passed me by on my good looks and charm."

"I don't think so." I brush my hair and smile down at the sink. Two toothbrushes, my and his. I am such a dork but my stomach gets all tingly when I see both of them there. I've been smiling so much my cheeks are beginning to hurt. "Sorry you had a bad day. Look in the closet it might make you feel better."

I hear the door move and I move onto stage two of getting ready for bed, brushing the teeth.

"Donna, my suit is in your closet." He's smiling too I can hear it in his voice. Good, I thought I might have gone overboard.

"Yeah so you can get ready here tomorrow morning. You don't seem to like to leave."

"Thank you." His words are so sincere.

"You're welcome."

"How was your night?"

"Weird. Paris Hilton cornered me for a few minutes and Tom Hanks had to save me. The speech went over well."

"I know Will was ranting about it the entire ride there. He's scared you will take his old job."

"I was thinking more Press Secretary."

"Not my old job?"

"Nah. Too weird. We raised nearly 10 million dollars tonight." I open the door to reveal the my tank top and boy cut underwear. "All yours." I point to the bathroom. He doesn't move.

"Um.. yeah… um ok I should go in there. Right."

"Yeah."

I plop down on the bed. And wait for my man to return. "Ten million that's wonderful. You kicked ass today. Where's Blarney boy?'

"He flew back about three hours ago; he has to get back for the wedding."

"Whose wedding?"

"His. Apparently he got back together with some girl from his younger years. He wanted me to thank you, apparently you inspired him."

"Really." I can't tell but I think he's dancing.

"He left me the pictures for the campaign. And some he took from Gaza." The dancing stops. I didn't want to tell him. But I want this new start in our relationship to be honest. No more elephants, just us for now on.

"Why did he do that?"

"Closure, I guess."

"Hump." One more thing was bugging me all day and now through a bathroom door I choose to ask the question.

"When I was meeting with Amy she said something. She implied that at one point you two might have discussed or it might have come up in conversation, that the idea of..."

"Spit it out Donna."

"Did you ever want to marry Amy?"

"WHAT!" He comes rushing out the door. "She said that to you?"

"Sort of." He stands in the door way and smiles an indiscernible smile.

"Donna, I didn't even love her, why would I marry her?" I heart swells, my cheeks are starting to hurt again. He comes to the bed and crawls over to me. He starts to kiss my neck and wraps his arm around my stomach. "You had a good day, tonight's about you." I start to kiss his neck and I think I agree but I am not sure. "So what are the rules?"

"Depends on what I am going to get?"

"Massage. I'm legendary for them."

"Legendary?"

"Well, you'll like it."

"You can touch everything, but stay above my clothes."

"I can live with that."

I roll over on my back facing away from him. He starts at my head, running his fingers through my hair, applying pressure to my scalp in small circular motions. If you have never had a head massage it is hard to explain, but wonderful, go get one. NOW!

I start to hum Mama Mia a little as he begins working on my fingers and hands. My humming turns to singing.

"My my, just how much I've missed you, Yes, I've been brokenhearted, Blue since the day we parted. Why, why did I ever let you go? Mamma Mia, now I really know, My my, I could never let you go."

He kneads the muscles in my arms. "Donna, please stop singing its very distracting."

"But I am so good at it." He goes to say something, but stops. I think he is beginning to learn.

His touch is like fire, his hands send flames up my back. Everywhere he starts the fire he quenches it with his lips. Fire and water that makes my nerve ending explode with pleasure.

He now starts to turn his attention to my neck and back. Some people would say his best feature is his brilliant mind, but after being around that for years I've become slightly jaded to it. Others would say it is his arms. True they are very nicely cut for a man in his age. But I love his hands. They touch me and they feel like they are apart of me.

He works on the knots in my neck and back, air escapes my mouth and I start to "mmmm" which grows and evolves into a moan. His hands, his body feels to perfect against mine. It makes me wish I wasn't wearing to tank top so I could really feel the sensation but having the barrier there makes it more… sensual? I like I have to wait and I am only getting small tastes of things to come. My moans grow slightly louder as he works my lower back.

"Donna?"

"Too distracting?"

"Yeah. But in a different way."

"Do you want me to stop?"

"No, it's nice to hear you are enjoying it."

He moves lower and turns his attentions to, well, my behind. He kneads it and squeezes it.

"Are you enjoying groping my ass?"

"As a matter of fact I am."

He moves to my legs. Right then left. I almost never want this to end. It's the amount of surface area his covering with his fingers, unshielded by clothing. I stand by my early statement, I am in store for something amazing later on. He's so attentive, like he is learning every aspect of my body. When he gets to my feet, in a husky voice he asks me to roll over.

Now, if you have never had a good foot massage you need to get one. Too much pressure can hurt or cause leg cramps but too little pressure tinkles. I hate having me feet tickled, it makes my legs spaz and I feel like an idiot. It's the reason why I hate getting a pedicure. But Josh is perfect at it, right amount of pressure, this I enjoy.

He shimmies up my leg. My eyes have been closed for a while, to drown out all other distractions, to focus simply on his touch, his breathing, his lips. I love everything about…

No more hand, no more rubbing. Why did he stop? He was working on my leg. And he stopped.

Oh God.

My leg.

My scars.

Say something. Anything. Remind him it isn't his fault. Does he think their ugly? Does he find me hideously disfigured? Stop panicking. Slow down your breathing.

"Donna. These aren't your only scars." His voice is filled with questions and uncertainty.

"Josh." I barely recognize my own voice. I stare only at the ceiling, afraid to shut my eyes and afraid to look at him. They start to sting and my cheeks are getting wet. The lump that was living in my throat for so long, makes itself at home again.

"Fulbright scholar my ass." He mutters with disgust. Disgust. Is it me? Oh god, is it? "These aren't your only scars." He repeats.

He moves his body along side my. His fingers making a path, never allowing air to separate his contact from mine. They stop under my breasts and draw a line, then between them, tracing my scars.

Mortification and anguish floods my face, heart and mind.

Do something, Donna. Make it stop.

"They're ugly. I don't want you to see them." Some how I choke out the words.

He draws himself up to me and tilts my head to look at him. His face, so kind and soft, filled with kindness, understanding and love. He voice echoes his face.

"Donnatella. Do you think you are the only one in the relationship with scars?"

He kisses me deeply, as if his mouth as trying to suck away all the pain. His hand leads mine to his chest. His scar. The gunshot, the surgery, his scar. Suddenly we both understand each other's shame, and insecurities. We comprehend each other more then anyone else. My brain screams I love you. But his mouth and tenderness say, I already know. We simply continue to kiss and relish in each other's arms.

Home this hotel room, in his arms. I am home.